untouchable
by PenonPaperFingersonKeys
Summary: And there's a tiny bit of amusement to her tone (not that she'd admit it) and her lips twitch slightly; "Aren't you going to fight me for it?" [Andromeda/Ted; pre-relationship]


**a/n: **this is my first fic in a really long time but here it is! mainly for the reason that i found my old computer and actually liked this and decided _why not_. anyways i have a really unresolved and big thing and andromeda/ted and there really is no fandom stuff on it which dissatisfies me so pretty much this is my self indulgent mess of a fic (because really andromeda/ted + unrequited love + sirius + sirius and james early bonding is pretty much my equivalent to a massive cheesecake = pure happiness) (also i realize it's pretty out of character to have andromeda in muggle clothes but i couldn't be bothered ironing out the logistics but wanted to keep ted going all googly eyed over her in jeans) *_*

follow me on tumblr y'all: dieobrien

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He's never really liked the Sorting – he never really cares (because he's selfish, you know?) and so he transfigures his fork into a potato-man and Charms it to run around in circles on the table because he's not that interested in the little brats.

And his friends – who, when it comes down to it, he doesn't really like – are nudging each other and stifling their laughter and McGonagall's shooting them death stares between 'Abott, Derek' and 'Anderson, Amy.'

His friends chuckle and roll their eyes and laugh and McGonagall snaps, "Black, Sirius," and maybe he's reminded of the time when Bellatrix hexed him for being a Mudblood, or when the younger one, Nacrissa told her boyfriend to punch him in the nose because he 'looked at her funny' and so he pays a little bit more attention and the potato-man runs off the edge of the table and falls to its gruesome demise. But whatever it is it isn't because of (oh no, never) Andromeda bloody Black.

...

She's beautiful, with her caramel hair that tumbles down her back, and her pretty little nose that turns up a bit. Perhaps she looks a bit too much like her older sister for his liking and perhaps she's a bit too 'Black' for it to be comfortable but he doesn't mind too much.

It's so _cliché_ but they're in the library and he's finally found a book that stubbornly would not appear and he's reaching over for it at the same moment she does and she's looking at him with her brown eyes and she looks so much like a refined Queen looking down on her subject that he hesitates for a moment before pulling back.

And there's a tiny bit of amusement to her tone (not that she'd admit it) and her lips twitch slightly; "Aren't you going to fight me for it?"

It's funny but for a moment he forgets that she's a Slytherin and a pureblood and that he's a Hufflepuff and a Muggle-Born.

"Well, surely a pretty lady like you needs it more than me?" His voice is deeper, more mature than it usually is, and he's looking at her through his long, blonde eyelashes, a smirk is on his face. See, Ted knows how to talk to girls; he knows what to do to make their faces flush and their hearts flutter and this is like an old page out of one of his favourite books. Except he sees the way Andromeda's hands flutter over the hard cover, her dainty fingers brushing the title like she doesn't even realize what she's doing and it's like someone has changed all of the main characters and he's reading this book an entirely different way.

And it seems – _for a moment_- she forgets too.

(Because if she hadn't forgotten would she be staring at him like that?)

"See, Tonks," she says, and he's surprised that she knows his name, "I'm getting O's in all my subjects whereas I'm pretty sure you're getting A's, at the best. I think that you deserve it." She shoves the book back into his hands and their fingers brush each other's dangerously and Ted grins slightly at the way she blushes. He should probably be offended by her statement, but the way her eyes glint makes him feel like there's an itch under his skin he can't get rid of.

"No, I really must insist that you take it," he says, bowing to her in a grand gesture.

She smiles wider and he uncurls before someone's got him by the scruff of his neck and is growling into his ear.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

The smile's slid off her face like water and she appraises the scene with shocked eyes. He squirms in the grip that's got him and drops to the floor in a mess of limbs and obscene words. And when he looks up he can feel his heart beat a little faster because it's Rabastan Lestrange and everybody knows he's already in the pocket of You-Know-Who.

(And he's a Hufflepuff and not a Gryffindor for a reason.)

So picks himself off the floor and dusts off his robes and purposely doesn't look at _her _and manages to glare coldly at the bastard in front of him.

"I was just giving Black her book."

Her last name tastes bitter on his tongue.

He twirls it in his hand for a moment, teasingly, before tossing it carelessly to her table where parchment and quills are scattered messily. The book lands with a thud and dust particles twirl and dance in the air and he lets himself fall to the temptation of looking at her and she's the cold, hard Black he's always known and he can't help but feel the tiniest bit disappointed.

But when Lestrange is glaring at him like that, defending his Slytherin queen from scum like him, what can he do, really?

(He didn't know that she was disappointed too – disappointed that he had turned around, said nothing and walked away.)

...

His friends stare at him, questioning him with their raised expressions that say it all. (_"What are we doing? Why did you stop? What's so special about this kid?")_ So he laughs and whispers spitefully, "Mini-Death Eater," and for some reason he feels guilty. When the boy stumbles up to the stage, his face too old for someone so young, his robes comically big, looking nervously resigned, how can he not feel bad for someone who looks so desperately alone?

So like sheep his friends turn to watch the Sorting and when it takes moments – minutes – longer than anyone expected whispers begin to pick up. Ted ignores them, and the questions and speculations and watches as Sirius' face twists as he sits up on the wooden chair. Every now and then someone looks over to the Slytherin table where the two cousins sit imperiously, staring at the boy with hard glares.

There's a silent warning in the way Narcissa's chin lifts and her eyes tighten at the corners. Andromeda appears less than concerned and for some stupid reason Ted wants to know what makes her tick, what cracks her.

And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the boy lurches and the words spill into the hall with shocking clarity.

"Gryffindor."

McGonagall reigns in a look of surprise, her professionalism outweighing any personal opinions, and had it been any other relatives there would have been a scene. If it had been anybody else other than the beautiful and coolly untouchable Nacrissa, who would never raise her voice in the company of strangers. If it had been Bellatrix instead of the calm and composed Andromeda there would have been an outcry.

But there isn't. There's silence.

Ted knows all about silence.

...

"Mr Tonks! Please leave the first year alone, _now_."

He glances up and grins at his stressed and infuriated Transfiguration teacher and comments cheekily on how they really _did _deserve it. McGonagall purses her lip into a thin line and he falters slightly.

But he'd always been a foot-in-mouth sort of person.

And he liked the thrill of getting McGonagall to rise to the bait – which without fail she took.

"But _Professor_, you can't fault me for getting them back for being so arrogant! They were just boasting about how they fought the Giant Squid!" McGonagall's eyebrows raise slightly and if Ted didn't know any better he'd have said her lips twitched. "But I guess, arrogance comes hand in hand in Gryffindor, if y'know what I mean..."

Of course he knew he'd get a detention. He'd be disappointed if he didn't. He just didn't know he'd get a month's worth of detention.

As the crowd around them cleared out and his friends laughed and patted him on the back before disappearing to their classes, he grinned to himself and repositioned the book bag around his shoulders.

"Brilliant, Ted," he muttered to himself, shaking his head at his own idiocy. "Just get McGonagall to hate you all the more. _Shit_."

A slight cough behind him made him stiffen.

She had Muggle clothes on, was the first thing he noticed when he spun around. She had abandoned her robes for jeans and a T-Shirt; simple, yet lovely on her. It hugged her curves in a way that made him think of forbidden fruit, something so desirable yet unattainable in the same hand. Her hair was out, as she preferred generally, caramel tumbling down to just above her hips. His eyes lingered on the curve of her thighs and waist and he felt heat underneath his skin, an itch that he couldn't scratch when he took her in.

Nacrissa was undoubtedly the beautiful sister. She was all feminine grace, delicate features coupled with blonde hair and blue eyes; any man's dream. For the first time, Ted wondered if Nacrissa really was the most beautiful Black sister though.

"Black? Don't you have class?"

Andromeda shrugged, "I didn't really feel like it."

Ted raised his eyebrows, shocked into silence. From the Andromeda that he had known in their seven years of schooling she was never the sort of girl to ditch class for no reason. Her eyes the colour of melted chocolate narrowed at him daringly, begging him to ask her why.

He didn't allow her that satisfaction though.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without your robes on before," Ted remarked trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He shifted his book bag over his shoulder trying not to notice the way her eyelashes fluttered down over her cheeks as she stared at the floor, looking suddenly shy. He bit on his lower lip, slipping his hands into the pocket of his robes. It was like a warning to himself; _you can look but you can't touch. _

"I don't often," she admitted, tugging at the deep green jumper she'd adorned. The colour was fitting, he thought wryly. "I'm not sure I suit Muggle clothing though."

Ted cleared his throat, "Well I don't know about that."

Standing there, in the empty Transfiguration corridor, Andromeda Black looked a little less Black and a lot more human when she glanced at him, her cheeks stained in a pretty blush and her eyes wide from the compliment. She parted her lips as if she meant to say something but stopped, her eyes darting from his eyes down to the yellow and black on his tie. She seemed to swallow back whatever words had threatened to come out and for a prolonged moment of time they did little more but stare at each other.

Ted sighed, shrugging slightly and then spun around and left Andromeda Black standing in the corridor adorned with her Muggle attire and couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

(He kind of, stupidly, hoped that if he shook his head enough he would stop thinking about how beautiful she looked in jeans.)

...

McGonagall's face is almost comical because Sirius is a _Black_ and _Black's _just don't get sorted into Gryffindor. And the boy, standing on the stage, looks down at the silent hall and hesitates looking towards the table adorned in green and silver whose faces are slowly changing from indifferent to angry and he slowly smiles.

Ted watches from the Hufflepuff table and cant' help but grin as a little speck of a first year, not even sorted yet with messy hair and lopsided glasses, starts an enthusiastic clap that slowly and awkwardly begins to spread and dies out quick. He watches as Sirius makes his way to the Gryffindor table, his chin high and face set.

And he can't help it – blue eyes dance over to where Andromeda Black is sitting and for some reason, she looks slightly smug, slightly pleased.

(And he's stupid, really, but it made him hope.)


End file.
